I cried the hardest my first Christmas in a wheelchair. I’m not saying that because this is a Christmas story or because I am trying to milk some emotions. It really was the hardest time for me that year. I had been paralyzed in a hiking accident that March and released from the hospital in June—released was the word they used, but I was, from that time on, wheelchair-bound. My legs wouldn’t move. My stomach and back muscles didn’t work. And my hands were lifeless and floppy.
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